


The Mysterious Room of Magical Mysteriousness

by gothpandaotaku



Series: Short and Sweet [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Bunker Fluff, Bunker Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Post-Episode: s11e18 Hell's Angel, Sam and Dogs, Sam finally gets a dog, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6574381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothpandaotaku/pseuds/gothpandaotaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean discover a magical room in the bunker and it may be the answer to their problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mysterious Room of Magical Mysteriousness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brokenlittleboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/gifts).



> So instead of writing my Wincest Big Bang, or working on any of the several term papers I have due, I wrote this for @brokenlittleboy. We discussed this prompt once and I couldn't get it out of my head! I hope you like it!

The bunker was a _big_ place. Even after living there for almost three years now, Sam and Dean hadn’t found the time to explore each and every room within its cavernous walls. Sometimes when he was bored Dean would aimlessly wander around the bunker, deliberately turning corners he’d never been before and opening the door to each and every room, simply curious to see what was inside. Often, they were more dorm rooms or storage areas for Men of Letters documents. But other times…

Other times they housed amazing things.

* * *

 

With Cas AWOL and Lucifer running around in his meatsuit, and Amara God knew where, there hadn’t been much time for exploring, too busy researching and plotting ways to draw them out. Then their attempt to capture Lucifer and use him to defeat the Darkness failed.

It had been a week since then, and both Winchesters were going crazy with restlessness. There was no plan, and no immediate hope of discovering a new one. They had little to do but look at lore they’d already gone over a dozen times and hope Crowley— _Crowley_ —would come up with another viable plan.

Now that there was no immediate purpose, essentially just _hoping_ Lucifer or Amara didn’t end the world on a whim, Sam had a lot of time to think. Dean would be the first person to say that bad things tended to happen when Sam had time to think, though he didn’t know the half of it. Often it ended with sleep deprivation, jumping straight into Hell, or driving towards the edge of a cliff, only to hit a dog.

Sam shot up in bed, choking on a silent scream of terror. He gulped in lungful after lungful of air but he still couldn’t breathe, each gasping breath a sharp pain in his chest. He half-fell out of bed and managed to stumble back to his feet and out into the hallway. Water. He needed water. He headed in what he thought was the direction of the kitchen but his vision was blurry and his head was swimming. His fingers grasped the handle of the nearest door and pulled, not noticing its distinctive red handle, just as his body gave out on him and he fell forward.

Into a bright, sunny meadow.

_What the fuck?_

Sam pulled himself back to his feet and he realized… the pain in his chest was gone. He could breathe. His heart was no longer threatening to burst out of his chest. He felt… peaceful, which should probably alarm him, but he just didn’t feel it.

Taking a good long look at his surroundings, Sam immediately noticed that the door he came through was missing. As if it had disappeared into thin air. He waited for the anxiety, something supernatural was obviously going on, but it never came. The wide array of colorful wildflowers blowing in the calming breeze, in vivid oranges, reds, and yellows and every possible shade in between, was much more interesting.

_“Yip!”_

He looked down and suddenly there was a tiny golden retriever puppy at his heels, batting at a loose thread hanging off his sleep pants. Now Sam generally considered himself pretty stoic, but this puppy was possibly the cutest thing he had ever seen. Before he knew it he holding the golden ball of fluff in his arms and barely resisting the ridiculous urge to start talking to it in a higher pitch.

“Hey there little guy, what are you doing out here?” Sam murmured to the puppy, plopping down onto the soft grass. The puppy didn’t say anything, just stared at him for a moment before licking a wet stripe up his nose.

Sam laughed from the heart for the first time in a long, long time.

A rustling in the thick grass and suddenly more puppies were bounding up to him, their small bodies practically vibrating with happiness. There must have been a dozen of them: a Labrador retriever, a chiquaqua, a beagle, a German Sheppard, a Husky… their small size proved to be misleading, as they were stronger than they appeared, knocking Sam onto his back and crawling all over him until he was effectively surrounded by puppies.

It felt like he was cocooned in the worlds fluffiest security blanket and he never wanted to leave.

After an indeterminable amount of time, the door appeared in its rightful place as if it had never been gone, looking out of place in the beautiful meadow. Sam knew it was time to go. With more than a little wistfulness he padded through the meadow and back into reality.

He didn’t notice the ball of fluff trailing behind him.

* * *

 

Dean kept asking where he got the puppy, but Sam didn’t have a good answer, so he just kept telling him he found it on the street and couldn’t say no. He certainly couldn’t tell his brother it had apparently followed him out of a magical room in the bunker that appears and disappears at will. He didn’t like keeping secrets from Dean, but… it’s not like he had any proof. He’d been around the bunker several times since then and still could not find the door again.

So he let it go, for now at least.

They decided to name the puppy Angus because of the puppy’s mop of thick, curly, super fluffy fur on its head and neck.

* * *

 

Two weeks later and no progress had been made on the _saving the whole frickin’ world, **again,**_ front. Sam and Angus had gone to bed early (that dog was surgically attached to Sam at the hip, Dean swore) and Dean was going crazy. Every fiber of his being just itched to _do_ something. So that night, he drank. Restlessly and aimlessly, Dean wandered through the halls of the bunker while swigging a bottle of Johnny Walker, aged two days.

After a particularly long swallow Dean noticed he was in a part of the bunker he didn’t recognize, at least, he didn’t think he recognized it… the damn place was confusing and most hallways looked the same. A nondescript door with a red handle caught his eye.

Taking another swig from the bottle, Dean shrugged and pulled open the door.

He stepped out onto the edge of a lake. A full moon hung high in the sky, allowing more than enough light to see by. In front of him was a dock, and on the end of the dock a comfortable-looking chair and fishing rod lay waiting. For him, he knew.

Logically, he should be freaking out about this. He just stepped through a door in the bunker and onto a freaking magical lake or something. But he just felt _calm._ He felt more calm and centered than he had in years, probably. Not even at the bottom of the bottle had he felt this kind of peace, all traces of alcohol seemingly erased from his system.

With a shrug and a small smile to himself, Dean strode onto the dock and settled into his chair. He had some fishing to do.

When he returned back to the bunker Sam was there waiting for him, Angus at his feet, with a knowing smile on his face.

“How’d you find me?”

Sam shrugged. “I had a hunch. Before I knew it I walking this way, and there you were…”

“So I take it this is where you found Angus?” Dean gazed down at the puppy in question, who seemed to know they were talking about him and doubled the puppy eyes factor as he stared straight into Dean’s soul.

“Yup.” Sam said sheepishly, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“Should we be worried?”

Not needing any clarification, Sam grew serious. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel like a cursed object, or room, or whatever, and I don’t feel any evil intent from it-”

“Eh, should be fine.” Dean cut in, sensing that Sam was going to start spouting fact after fact about why they should leave the room be and he didn’t need them. There was no way the room could be evil, not when it made him feel that _peaceful._ Or maybe the room’s serene shit was still working on him.

Sam blinked like an owl, hazel eyes wide and confused. “You… _don’t_ want to find out what that room really is and find a way to get rid of it?”

“Nah. But I swear if that dog,” Dean pointed at Angus, who, Dean _swore,_ shot him an offended look, “steals a bite of my burger again I’m shoving him back where he came from.”

It was probably just because he was still feeling all Zen and shit, but Sam’s answering booming laugh made something in Dean’s stomach heat up.

* * *

 

The Mysterious Room of Magical Mysteriousness, as Dean had come to call it (Sam adamantly refused), appeared whenever they were in need of serious guidance. There wasn’t any rhyme or reason to it. The door with a red handle appeared in a different location every time and yet somehow they always found it when they needed it the most.

Sam found the room the night before the big showdown with Amara. This time he saw himself when he was but ten years old, and a young Dean teaching him how to use a gun for the first time.

One night over several glasses of whiskey Dean admitted that he’d seen their father. He’d given Dean the kind of pep talk he never had in life.

Another night they were riding high on beer and beer bowling, using their empty bottles as soon as they drained them for bowling pins. Angus lay in his over-sized plush dog bed, (probably five times bigger than needed, and softer than Dean’s own bed to boot), watching them lazily. Dean ran off to get more beer and Sam got this urge, deep in his bones, to follow him. So he did.

Instead of the door to the kitchen they found the door to The Mysterious Room of Magical Mysteriousness. Together they stepped into a field under a starry night sky. It had probably been _years_ since they’d last been stargazing like that. The Impala was even there waiting for them.

Like a child, Dean took off running towards her, yelling behind him, “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

He won of course, and Sam didn’t mind one bit.

Just like old times, they sat on Baby’s hood and watched the stars and named all the constellations they could, even making up some of their own. When Dean leaned over those last few, infinitesimal inches and lowered his lips onto Sam’s, slotting them together like pieces of a puzzle, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

They made love for the first time under the stars to the rhythm of the Impala purring in time with Dean’s thrusts as he rocked into Sam.

They didn’t see the door with a red handle for a long, long time after that, but it never left, always watching over the boys when they needed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and comments are the highest form of love <3


End file.
